Their romance
by vampire princess33
Summary: A series of Brad x Patrick standalones that explore their relationship. Rated T for violence, language and mild slash, mainly implications. I'm not good at writing summaries, but please read. Future chapter will have a happy ending.
1. Their romance

**A/N: I had been thinking about this fic ever since I watched the movie. I fell in love with Patrick (even though girls are not exactly his type :P) and wanted to write something about he and Brad.**

**I plan on adding more chapters but they will just be random one-shots. I also plan on giving this couple kind of a happy ending.**

**I couldn't think of a title so if you have any idea then by all means let me know.**

**Review, people. It will only take a few seconds and seeing reviews always make me happy!**

**And to all the Patrick x Brad fans...ENJOY!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the perks of being a wallflower.**

In their night outings with Charlie, Patrick would always make an effort to seem carefree and light-hearted, and he was doing a great job of hiding his true feelings even from himself, or at least for the biggest part of the night.

Patrick said that now that he and Brad were no longer together he was free to be with whoever he wanted and that it wouldn't be necassary for him to hide anymore.

That was what he kept telling himself, over and over again as if only by repeating it could it become ingrained into him.

However, at some point after that, every single night, the energy and the cheerfulness he would show would drain and leave him vulnerable.

Then, all the things Patrick tried to keep at bay during the day would rush back into him and it seemed as if they were a weight that would crush him.

_Please. Stop. You're killing him._

Patrick wanted to get these words out of his head, but most importantly, he wanted the image that accompanied them and had been searred into his mind disappear.

Now Patrick knew that he shouldn't have fled like a coward and leave Brad deal with the situation.

They had been in Brad's basement and he had promised that they would have as much time as they wanted alone.

Patrick had felt as if he was about to reach some twisted and forbidden sort of paradise with Brad's touch sending waves of fire and pleasure in his whole body, when it was all shattered by the _click_ the doorknob made as it turned and a man's furious, unforgiving voice ''What do you think you're doing in my own house? You faggot!''

He had never seen Brad's father before, but Patrick knew pretty well that this was not the right time to meet him, especially when he had found his son in bed with another male.

However, what Patrick had not been expecting was what Brad's father did next and at that moment he could understand why Brad had been claiming he had been drunk or stoned and he couldn't remember a thing from the parties every time he and Patrick had shared some intimate moments.

Brad's father crossed with big strides the distance between the door and the bed at the far wall of the basement where his son was lying with Patrick, and when he grabbed Brad by the hand and dragged him off the bed so abruptly that Brad let out a surprised yelp of pain, Patrick knew why it had been so hard for Brad to accept his homosexuality.

It took Brad months and months of late night parties, drunken kisses and denial of everything that had happened between them every Monday morning at school before he could finally come in terms with his sexuality and tell Patrick that he wanted to be together with him.

Patrick could understand why Brad had been so afraid, because now he could see in the harsh, unyielding expression of his father that he would never accept that his son was gay.

His father hit Brad on the face, and it was not just a slap but a _punch_ that left a stream of blood running from Brad's.

He tried to protect his face from his father's angry fit of rage, but the other man just kept hitting him, bruising him, making him bleed and at the same time yelling all the words concerning homosexuals that would cause ado if uttered in a civilised conversation.

Patrick watched in shock as Brad was being beaten.

''Pleas, stop. You're killing him!'' Patrick only detachedly heard himself saying these words, trying to help Brad.

His face was a bloody, bruised mess when he managed to raise his head from the spot on the floor where he had fallen and look at Patrick, his gaze was begging him to leave.

Patrick felt like he would be sick right there.

Brad's father was ignoring him and had turned his full attention on Brad, kicking and cursing him as if Patrick wasn't there, watching the whole scene without being able to do anything to help Brad.

He turned around and started to run, wishing that Brad would forgive him one day for being a coward and not defending him.

Patrick focused on his steps as he tried to get out of the house whose walls seemed as if they were closing in on him and asphyxiating him.

Climb up the stairs. Get out of the basement. Keep walking. Find the front door.

The last words he heard coming from the mouth of Brad's father kept echoing in his ears even after he left the house and started to run down the street without seeing where he was going ''Even this fucking qeer know how to run away when things get bad.''

Now, as Patrick wept like a baby, clinging onto Charlie in what was nothing more than a moment of solace and comfort between two friends, he thought that the fact remained : Patrick hadn't defended Brad, and so Brad had no duty to stand up against his mates when they beat Patrick in the school cafeteria.

Deep down, Patrick knew that he deserved it.

Oh, everything was so complicated when the meaning of love should be simple. Because he still loved Brad even though Brad didn't want him anymore.

Every night he and Charlie went out, Patrick supressed the pain he was feeling and tried to be optimistic and upbeat, but by the end of the night, he couldn't help wondering if he had lost Brad forever.


	2. Their denial

**A/N: This is the second chapter of my Patrick x Brad fic. I wanted to show the conflict taking place inside Brad and the reason why he couldn't accept that he loved Patrick at first.**

**Actually, there is no particular order in the chapters, so each chapter is more of a standalone. Also I thought it would be interesting to try and write it from second person pov. Rated T for language and homosexual implications.**

**Disclaimer: I do noy own the Perks of being a wallflower**

**Their denial**

You say this will not happen again, that this is all wrong. You say that this is not normal as you leave from the party earlier and you leave him standing in the front door with a hurt expression on his face.

You were drunk and stoned and by the morning you will not remember a single thing, or at least this is what you tell yourself because for now all of your thoughts are filled with the taste of his lips on yours, the warmth of his hands as they slide to your waist, filled with _him_, and there is no space for anything else in your mind.

The next morning you wake up with a terrible hangover, but it is easier to convince yourself that Patrick doesn't mean a thing to you, that he was a drunken mistake and nothing more, and by the end of the weekend you believe it- almost.

Monday morning at school you are prepared to avoid Patrick but he takes you off guard when he comes to your locket before the beginning of the lessons.

''Brad, about Friday-'' he starts, but you cut him off, forcing a laugh ''Dude, I don't remember a thing from that party. I was so fucking wasted.''

Patrick's eyes darken and you watch as he walks away without answearing.

You don't care about him, about this _faggot _because, hell, you're not gay, but the little stinging pain inside you speaks for itself. Angry, you slam your locket's dooe closed and walk towards the opposite direction.

One of your football mates tells you that there will be another party on Saturday night. A smile spreads on your face before you can stop it. ''You bet I will come'' you respond, and the rest of the lunch break at the cafeteria goes by in a blur of barely contained excitement.

You can't stop wondering if Patrick will be at the party as well. You are not gay, you're _not_, and what you're feeling is _not_ anticipation for meeting him again, but it definitely feels like it.

Saturday night comes and you go to the party with your mates, but you don't pay any attention to them. You spot Patrick's dark head rightaway in the sea of high school students holding plastic cups of cheap beer in their hands and you see his troubled expression when your eyes meet, but you don't make your way towards him and his odd friends, not before you make sure that you are drunk with something stronger than beer and high and _justifiable_ enough to approach him.

And it happens again, just like you have been secretly expecting, but you wouldn't admit it now, would you?

Patrick tells you the party is too noisy, and when he suggests leaving, you merely nod. You let him lead you to an empty bedroom upstairs, and when he sits on the bed and stares at you with those piercing, intent eyes, you join him.

You kiss and you tell yourself that you let it happen only to see if the taste is as you remember it and just that, because you're straight, damn it straight, but it feels so good, kissing Patrick's soft lips that have the slightest taste of whiskey and lemon-scented gum.

It feels so good that for a moment you forget how wrong it is, and the next thing you know is that the party is over and you haven't left the bedroom and Patrick even once.

You have the whole Sunday to repeat in you head how wrong and unnatural letting yourself kiss and touch Patrick is, a whole Sunday to replay every single moment of it in your mind again again, while you curse that godamn hangover that won't stop hammering into your head and you secretly relish in every single word that was spoken between you, every single caress and every single moment you had with him.

The next day at school you deny everything ''Man, the whole nights is a total blur. I only remember being on the booze and then passong out the moment I got home. I have no idea what you mean.'' That feigned laugh again, fake words leaving your mouth and sounding empty and untrue even to your own ears while the only thing you want to do is grab Patrick by the shoulders and shut his mouth with a fierce kiss.

But you can't do this because you're Brad and you're straight straight straight.

It happens again. You let it happen time and time again and you don't know how much time has passed because your whole life has become a hazy repetition of trivial things and you seemd to live only for those parties where you know you can see him again, even if you have to get drunk or stoned in order to do so.

Only then you feel alive and every nerve of your body tingles with excitement like electric power surges into your every vein. Only there you can be yourself even if at times you don't even know who your real self, the real _you_ is.

And- _God_- it is a torture, the waiting, but what torments you the most is what you have to do the bext day at school, pretend it never happened and a die a little more insed as you see Patrick's hurt, disappointed expression. Sometimes you don't know who you're lying to: Patrick or yourself?

Either way, you feel like it is no working anymore. You feel tired of pretending you don't care. Everything is Patrick and Patrick is evrything. He's like a drug to you, something toxic and you just want more and more from this sweet obsession. You find yourself thinking about him all the time, sneaking him quick looks at class when you think he doesn't notice, waiting to see him again and feel burning and alive once more.

All those stolen glances that lasted a second too long, the silence between you that is filled with words only the two of you can hear, the reminiscence of his fingers tangling in your hair and caressing your face and your neck and the knowledge that you can't have any of these until the damn week ends and there is another party you can't propably miss; all of these are driving you crazy and yet you still crave for them as if you have found a new kind of addiction, stronger than anything else you have tried before.

Yet, you still deny it. You're not gay, _not gay not gay not gay, _but somehow this reasoning doesn't seem so convincing anymore and you start wondering about things, you really are.

This goes on for a few more weeks, being with Patrick every Friday night, denying having any recollection of the night they spent together every monday morning. It's a circle and it has come to be so hard to break it, but you do.

So, when this one Friday night there's a party at Patrick's place after one of your football matches, you go. When yout tell him to come with you for a while, he follows. And when you are finally alone in one of the bedrooms and Patrick starts talking, you lean in and quiet him with a kiss as you have imagined doing so many times.

At that moment you're not thinking about the consequences of what you are doing- the Hell with your fear of what your father might do if he finds out, the Hell with everything because it can't be wrong when it feels so right.

When you say ''I want to be with you. Not like this, getting drunk at every party, but _really_ be with you.'', you haven't had a sip of alcohol all night, and you know that Patrick is able to tell the difference. There's nothing more that needs to be said.

You are into Patrick's arms and it feels so good and so real that there is no mistake anymore: you love him. You love him even when you can't utter those three words just now. But he speaks them for both of you and you think that maybe one day you will be able to say those words as well.

It doesn't matter, because tonight you really feel happy to just be with Patrick without having to pretend anymore.


End file.
